Chapter 122
Chapter 122
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Star Fall (7)
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When Palkatus was born, he was the sole recipient of the queen's and his siblings' expectations.
And for good reason. Among the two samples Edeorna had brought from Turan, the second Named born from the sample of the Sun of the Battlefield, Charlotte de Agate, had emerged as a monster with overwhelming combat prowess.
"Isn't it fascinating? Just the gender changed, and from the same material, a child with abilities exactly inverse to hers appears."
"Gender's the only thing that changed? That's an insult to Mother and our siblings, sister. The seeds are different. How could a tree grown from a seed planted in the desert be the same as one that sprouted in Octo?"
Superior physical condition, command ability, and especially devastating power in large-scale army battles—most aspects were eerily similar, but Termakian and Charlotte differed in one perfect way.
While Charlotte grew stronger with buffs that enhanced her entire allied forces the more allies were nearby, Termakian absorbed the power and life force of nearby allies as they died, temporarily channeling the strength of an entire legion into his body to wield it.
"Looks like it's about to come out soon. I hope it's got some real power. These guys around here are all just scarecrows—not even worth warming up against...."
"Don't handle it too roughly. It won't be the kind of child you think."
"Weakling?"
"...I can't quite explain it. Like a single piece of charcoal lighting up an entire lighthouse. Burning bright enough to illuminate the sea beyond, but gone in a flash without even leaving ash. Honestly, even though it was human, I felt a pang of regret at the thought of such a being fading away so pointlessly. The last I saw on that battlefield before fleeing, it was practically a corpse. By now, it's probably lost that sparkling intellect, wandering the field like a zombie infected, or slain by human hands."
"...Well, I didn't see it myself, so I won't say much. I trust your judgment, sister. You're the one who brought the material that made me, after all."
"Right. Truth be told, I'm looking forward to it quite a bi—"
"...! ...! ......!!"
Whoosh!
Rustle!
At the queen's signal, the two monstrosities rushed to her side without a moment's hesitation. The queen groaned in pain. They couldn't help her, but they couldn't ignore the agony flooding their minds.
Squelch—splat!
In the queen's lair, amid the frantic bustle of countless mutant attendants, their third sibling finally entered the world.
"...Small."
"This the one? No matter how I look, it's undersized—"
Slash!
"You know full well that ripping out your tongue wouldn't impair its function much."
Before Termakian could finish, a white tendril shot from Edeorna's fingertip, piercing the thin skin under his jaw. With a light flex, Termakian pushed the claw away and grumbled.
"Tch. Just saying. Body's small, that's a fact."
[Ah, uh..... uwaaa.....]
"There must be something special. Look. Not even a minute old, and it's already using psychic waves to communicate."
[Ah, uwaaa.... hurts.... cold....]
"Already learning human speech.... Hm?"
"Sister. That.... broken?"
Struggling to rise before Edeorna and Termakian's eyes, Palkatus kept slipping in his attempts to stand, crawling desperately toward the queen's lair for any warmth.
In Edeorna's speechless gaze, Palkatus succeeded in clinging to his mother's flesh using his broken leg and one good arm.
The first thing he felt upon birth was the searing pain from his shattered leg and the frigid air tearing at his lungs like eternal permafrost.
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I want to be strong.
It was a phrase that clawed at Palkatus's heart every time he saw Edeorna set out to hunt the mighty or Termakian drag back meat from slash-and-burn villagers and remote savage tribes for their mother.
Unlike his siblings, his body was frail beyond measure. Even a 7th-grade mutant born from infection rather than the nest possessed inherent toughness that let it endure the northern chill bare-skinned for a day or two, but Palkatus would die in minutes without the symbiotic mutant his mother had birthed solely for him, 'Buddy,' enveloping him in its fluids.
Tormented by gratitude and guilt toward his mother, and self-loathing whenever he faced his siblings, one day he confronted his long-returned sister.
"...Why did you choose that human?"
"Tus. A weak child like you shouldn't have come this far. Return to Mother at once—"
"Why pick such worthless material to make me!"
It wasn't mere petulance born of accumulated frustration.
He truly loved his family—all the mutants under his mother. And because he loved them, he couldn't forgive his own existence.
After the defeat in Turan, the Black Mages demanded more of Mother's blood and flesh for experiments. When they offered 500 sacrificial births in exchange for opening Mother's head for procedures, how his indomitable sister had barely choked out a refusal, fingers cracking under her own grip as she suppressed her rage?
If he had Edeorna or Termakian's power, he could have gone out and hunted humans. Mother wouldn't have to fill her belly with stray dogs and lizards!
Glurp, splatter—
"No, you....!"
"Kill me! Right now! I can't bear a single morsel going to waste in my mouth! Chop me up and offer me to Mother instead! That way, at least I'd be of some use to our family!"
So he wished for death. Stripped of the symbiotic body Mother made, this frail, freezing hunk of meat could fill her starving gut—that would be his sole happiness. So he believed.
Rustle. Rustle.
He felt Edeorna's light footsteps approaching. Her claws, stronger than any in the world, would end him painlessly. With thoughts of leaving this burdensome world before causing more harm, he strained his freezing body to expose his neck.
"...You've been thinking too much alone. Poor thing."
Instead of sharp talons, his sister offered a warm embrace.
Her white body, changing day by day, carried Mother's scent. His utterly miserable sister, so impossibly warm. His frozen form melted into the heat of her sturdy frame.
"Tus. Lift your head."
"..."
"Come on."
From the slimes crawling the plains to the siblings born from Mother's belly, his was the most useless brow among all mutants—and the strongest, most beautiful sister's forehead touched it.
"The day you were born, you emitted psychic communion before words. You have a small, weak body, but you can hear and speak to the deepest depths of our siblings' minds. Just like Mother."
"That's...."
"No need to speak. I want to show you something—read it yourself."
Palkatus obeyed. His consciousness flowed like a soul through their touching foreheads, delving into his sister's memory. It was from when her body was still slender and graceful, back in Turan.
'See him there?'
Palkatus, wandering like an orphaned child on the battlefield, turned at Edeorna's voice.
A burly man. Bandit-like in appearance, clad in shabby gear—nothing special.
'That's him.'
'...Pardon?'
'You were born from the blood taken from that man.'
Palkatus couldn't comprehend. A man with a naturally tough body no training could grant. Made from him, why was Palkatus so frail? Maybe Brother was right—he was substandard, a defective product?
'Hush. Keep watching.'
The memory flowed on.
Contrary to appearances, the man's body wasn't strong. When he survived the mutant horde clash through sheer grit, having endured only by withstanding the force sliding off his shield-made shelter, his arm was twisted at an odd angle. Scrapes from tiny pebbles and minor abrasions tore and shattered his body with excruciating sensitivity. Just like Palkatus's own.
Yet the man shone on the battlefield.
Surviving the clash, he joined a ragtag group and led them.
By simply taking the right position, he opened a lifeline for the human forces and paved the way for counterattack.
Soon, he commanded the entire right flank,
And with his broken, corpse-like body, rallied the human knights, ultimately leading to his sister's defeat at that knight's hands.
"..."
"Did you see?"
"...Yes."
"Then say it again. Was he truly weak?"
"No...."
"Then you aren't weak either."
His sister patted the back of his bowed head once, then summoned Buddy to swallow him again and said,
"Don't let Termakian's words get to you. No matter what you look like, you're Mother's child and my family. There'll be a place where you shine."
Slosh.
Inside Buddy's green fluids, programmed to prioritize Palkatus's survival, as it gently carried his cooling body back to Mother's warm lair, Palkatus no longer gazed at his ugly, weak form. His mind turned elsewhere. To his kin scattered across the world. To himself, able to commune with them. And to his original, the father—who felled enemies like a massive wave despite a frail body and led victory.
"Ahh, ahhhh...."
In immense realization, tears streamed from Palkatus's eyes. The sharpest mind among Mother's progeny. And his innate ability to commune with kin.
"I'm.... not weak...."
He hadn't been born weak. He had everything needed, rendering a strong body irrelevant.
Squish squish squish squish
Inside Buddy's fluids, treading softly lest Palkatus be jostled, he wailed like a newborn.
He wasn't weak. Merely suited for a different purpose.
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"From that day, I changed. Day by day, I realized I was far more capable than I thought, and how full the world was of idiots. For the first time, I thanked Mother for birthing me this way, thanked my sister for lifting me from self-loathing, and above all, revered you, Father—the one who showed me my worth. Though human, I felt you were family!"
Dealing with the Black Mages was easy. The periodic shipments of Mother's blood and flesh. By diverting a bit more to one faction, they suspected and tore at each other over plots no one had tried before. A mere whisper scattered the parasites devouring Mother. Disunited humans were frail.
Facing the Black Mages taught him how easily humans were swayed. He raided a small village, then sent his second brother to save them.
Unlike infected, able to speak and walk upright like them, they knelt in gratitude at his brother. From Brother's memory, he learned they called it 'god.' Forming a cult, sparing only those with Salvation Church marks, they grew on their own—no further meddling needed. Like livestock yielding meat and milk, the Church provided precious intel and culled their own ranks. Too easy to believe.
Then Tobrun, the 6th-circle mage contacting via the Church. When Insomnia Creep, implanted in him, glimpsed the world at its final moment, Palkatus was so overjoyed he burst from Buddy and danced.
His template, Father, lived! Vibrant and healthy! Detecting an undetectable spy and foiling his plan sent shivers through Palkatus. As expected of Father. The one who made me, gave me enlightenment! Overcoming innate weakness with great intellect!
From that day, he cast aside leisure. With utter devotion. For the day he'd pit human and mutant pieces on the chessboard of war, clashing intellects! To confront the man who changed his life, pouring utmost respect into every scheme! Desperately racking his brain to seize the city! Consulting siblings to set goals! Finally restoring Mother to her rightful, great place. Everything perfect. Utterly flawless!
"But why! Why are you like this!!!"
Finally meeting Father. Unlike his united siblings, Father maneuvered suspicious, backstabbing incompetents into battle, traversing the frontlines in that frail body.
Though disappointed it wasn't the grand battlefield clash hoped for, he understood and planned to quietly bring him to Mother. Human brain research advanced—perhaps infect while preserving that brilliant mind. Such hopes!
Boom!
"Uahaha!"
Splat!
"Die, you trash! Die! Diiiie!!!"
Crack! Crunch! Smash!
What was that form?
Amid kin falling like autumn leaves, bare-chested without armor, right arm flinging blood as he bellowed mad laughter—that bestial sight!
The one Palkatus thought the only being besides Mother to fully understand him, Father with great intellect transcending frail flesh, his idol—why!
"Some kinda mad god, huh! Perfect! I'll kill you all and send you to Mom!"
Why fight so filthy and vile!
Palkatus thrashed in the symbiotic fluids, kicking, punching, straining unused vocal cords in rage. He couldn't suppress it.
"I.... waited for you. Whenever this trash body frustrated me, I longed for that day in the greatest battlefield's shadow, unleashing every means and intellect in a lifelong showdown! You.... why! Why swing brutal fists like that! Where's the great intellect! Our clash of tactics and schemes! You traitor! Why! Whyyyyy!!!"
Watching the Professor's battle through the relay bug called a broadcaster, Palkatus wailed. A clash of great minds? The father before him was just another savage human. Each swing of that bloodshot right arm sprayed gore from the elbow backward—like his shattered dreams.
Splat!
Thud!
"Marvel at magic's infinite potential! You monster brats! Finally! I've conquered my glass bodyyyy!!!"
Of course, oblivious, the Professor laughed uproariously at his Blood Armor—born of 'repulsion' and 'embrace'—as he battered mutants away.
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